'hold me up
towards the East, and speak the word. Then, passing through me, you
shall return to this time and it shall be the present to you.'

'But how--' A bell rang loudly.

'Oh crikey!' exclaimed Robert, 'that's tea! Will you please make it
proper daylight again so that we can go down. And thank you so much for
all your kindness.'

'We've enjoyed ourselves very much indeed, thank you!' added Anthea
politely.

The beautiful light faded slowly. The great darkness and silence came
and these suddenly changed to the dazzlement of day and the great soft,
rustling sound of London, that is like some vast beast turning over in
its sleep.

The children rubbed their eyes, the Psammead ran quickly to its sandy
bath, and the others went down to tea. And until the cups were actually
filled tea seemed less real than the beautiful voice and the greeny
light.

After tea Anthea persuaded the others to allow her to hang the charm
round her neck with a piece of string.

'It would be so awful if it got lost,' she said: 'it might get lost
anywhere, you know, and it would be rather beastly for us to have to
stay in the Past for ever and ever, wouldn't it?'

CHAPTER 4. EIGHT THOUSAND YEARS AGO

Next morning Anthea got old Nurse to allow her to take up the 'poor
learned gentleman's' breakfast. He did not recognize her at first, but
when he did he was vaguely pleased to see her.

'You see I'm wearing the charm round my neck,' she said; 'I'm taking
care of it--like you told us to.'

'That's right,' said he; 'did you have a good game last night?'

'You will eat your breakfast before it's cold, won't you?' said Anthea.
'Yes, we had a splendid time. The charm made it all dark, and then
greeny light, and then it spoke. Oh! I wish you could have heard it--it
was such a darling voice--and it told us the other half of it was lost
in the Past, so of course we shall have to look for it there!'

The learned gentleman rubbed his hair with both hands and looked
anxiously at Anthea.

'I suppose it's natural--youthful imagination and so forth,' he said.
'Yet someone must have... Who told you that some part of the charm was
missing?'

'I can't tell you,' she said. 'I know it seems most awfully rude,
especially after being so kind about telling us the name of power, and
all that, but really, I'm not allowed to tell anybody anything about
the--the--the person who told me. You won't forget your breakfast, will
you?'

The learned gent